


Fusion

by summerwritesshit



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bants? Idk I can't write for shit, M/M, Mutual Pining, Stucky - Freeform, This was a good idea, but i'll try?, civil war never happened, everyone is living in the tower, fight me irl, i probably don't have enough coffee in the house to motivate me to update regularly, i'll find a way to put thor in here because i love him, if i post one chapter and never touch this again don't @ me, is it a good story?, more espresso less depresso, post winter soldier, slow burn?, the author is writing self-insert because she can
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 05:10:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16111508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerwritesshit/pseuds/summerwritesshit
Summary: Bucky's healing process has been slow, and full of bumps in the road, but he has been making progress. Unfortunately for him, Steve (IAmNotInLoveWithBucky) Rogers and the rest of the residents of the avengers tower, Hydra has a rather large spanner to fuck the works up the ass with.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> After an intense, emotional week of running on about two hours sleep a night, this idea popped in to my head, and I'm running with it. Enjoy?

Blood splattered against the wall, staining the grey concrete a deep crimson, as the asset tore out a soldier’s throat. The asset’s orders had been to kill everyone not wearing Hydra insignia, and the asset did just that, tearing through every body not decorated with a red skull emblem. The asset slashed, stabbed, broke, punched and kicked, mowing through the enemy soldiers. Body after body went down, the asset operating efficiently to complete the mission. The perfect soldier. Footsteps and gunshots rang through the narrow halls, the sound bouncing through the underground maze, creating a cacophony of noise. The asset stopped breathing and stayed perfectly still, listening to the way the sound reverberated off the concrete, tracing the noise, and determining the direction of its origin. 

Target found. 

Commencing annihilation.

The asset moved, swift, and far to beautifully for a thing made to kill. Graceful movements carried the asset over piles of bodies already slain by the asset's own hand, down winding corridors and steep flights of stairs, towards the few living things left in the complex. As the sounds became louder and clearer, the asset rounded the final corner and ran at the soldiers, having run out of bullets long ago, and experiencing optimal efficiency in hand to hand combat, without risk of being shot by the ricochet of the bullets from the asset's own gun, bouncing off the cement walls. A knife through the throat, a smashed skull, a snapped neck. Bodies hitting the floor, cloth and flesh making muffled thumping sounds. Screaming, “too fast!”, “too strong!”. The asset advanced on the last soldier, black boots making no sound. His screaming became muffled as the asset’s hands wrapped around his face, his words garbled as his throat was closed off. The asset dropped his limp body to the ground, but not before he said his last words. 

“There’s another one”.

The asset turned, stepping over his cooling body, and walked soundlessly in the direction of the stairway to the roof. Her mission was complete.


	2. Flying Porridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are iffy but improving in the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone reads this let me know, I want to know how the fuck your luck got this bad that you ended up here

SEVEN DAYS EARLIER

Steve stood in front of the barbecue, empty beer bottle in one hand, tongs in the other, looking at the sausages sizzling away with a bemused look, as if they could explain to him why Tony had trusted him to look after the food, when he had nearly burnt the tower down cooking pasta only last week. Bucky snapped him out of his contemplation, taking the empty bottle from his hand and replacing it with a full one, patting him on the back as he did so. His gentle smile turned wry as he eyed the tongs in his hand, amusement dancing across his face. “If you burn the sausages, so help me Steve, I will kick your dumb ass in to next week”, he drawled, smirking at the way Steve held the tongs so delicately, you’d think they were burning him. Steve’s face and neck grew red, but he snickered along with Bucky. Threatening Bucky in retaliation, he said “Well, if you’re nice, I’ll only burn yours.” “Hey!” Bucky exclaimed, his grin now almost splitting his face in two. “If you do that, I’ll take a shit in your breakfast tomorrow morning. Cover it over nice and good, and watch as you take a huge bite”. It was Steve’s turn to smirk now, turning to face Bucky. “What makes you think I wouldn’t smell it first, Jerk?” Bucky’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped towards Steve. “If I put it in that awful porridge of yours, punk, it’d improve the flavour.” Steve promptly thwacked Bucky with the tongs, causing another laugh to escape. “It reminds me of home, you dick”, he said through his grin. Bucky’s face fell a bit at that, however. Shit. Steve wasn’t meant to tell him that, as Bucky couldn’t remember it for himself. Steve slowly lowered the tongs from where they had been raised, ready to hit Bucky again. He and Bucky both looked at the ground, both at a loss of what to say to lighten the situation. The glass door off the balcony suddenly slid open, making Bucky flinch slightly, and Tony emerged, completely oblivious to the tension in the air. He placed two massive dishes of salad on the table, before straightening up to look at the barbecue. He sighed, long-suffering, and said; “Steve. The sausages?” Steve whirled back around to face the barbecue, where the bags of meat had become sticks of charcoal. “FUCK!”

…

Steve sat at the breakfast bar in the shared living space the next morning, poking at his bowl of porridge skeptically, flanked by a smirking Bucky on one side, and a very confused Sam on the other. Bucky looked on, eyebrows raised innocently, as Steve inspected his breakfast. “It’s not gonna bite you, Rogers”, Sam said, finally breaking his bewildered silence. On Steve’s right, Bucky huffed a laugh in to his metal hand, causing Sam to increase his confusion two-fold. He looked between Steve and Bucky a few times, before standing up to leave. “Barnes, if you somehow put a piranha, or a rabid Pitbull in Steve’s breakfast, don’t come crying to me when you need a new babysitter”, Sam clipped, promptly running for the exit before Bucky could find a knife to throw at him. Bucky glowered down at Steve’s hand on his arm, half protecting him, half holding him back from ripping Sam’s head off. Steve loved them both, he really did, but he often wished that they could pull their heads in for two fucking seconds and sort their differences out. It would certainly make life a lot easier for him. Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and dumped it on the edge of his porridge bowl, sending it flying across the room, china bowl smashing in to a million pieces on the floor, gloopy porridge splattering on the shiny marble. Bucky glared at the remains of Steve’s meal, like it had decided that it had had enough of his and Sam’s shit, and had decided to throw itself across the room to put itself out of its misery. After a few seconds of looking at Bucky’s face and having a guess at what he was thinking, Steve was inclined to go join it. He went to get the mop.

…

Bucky sat on the couch, staring at the spot where the bowl of porridge had hit the floor. Steve sucked in a big breath, steeled himself, and went to try and console his best friend. He perched on the edge of the couch next to Bucky’s, leaning towards him, trying to come in to Bucky’s space, but not invade it. Bucky looked up at Steve, and smiled slightly, sending a flood of relief washing through him. No bomb diffusing this morning. “It’s ok Buck-”, Steve started, before Bucky cut him off with a snort. “- it wasn’t your fault”. Bucky nodded, smile falling a bit, but not completely dropping. With that better-than-expected reaction, Steve pushed on. “What happened?” he asked. “I know it wasn’t an accident Buck, you’re a sniper, you don’t miss.” It was only then that Bucky fully lost his smile, looking down at the floor, long hair hiding his face from Steve. Steve moved to stand, afraid that he had pushed Bucky to far, but stopped when Bucky cleared his throat to speak. “It was Sam’s babysitter comment.” Steve tilted his head slightly, despite understanding why the comment hurt Bucky, to encourage him to continue talking. “You know you don’t have to take care of me if you don’t want to, Stevie. If you want to go, I won’t stop you.” Bucky’s words hit Steve like a bus. He had expected Bucky to be mad at Sam for saying that he needed someone to take care of him. He hadn’t expected this. Steve moved so that he was crouching at Bucky’s feet, and peered through the curtain of hair that was blocking Bucky’s face. “Buck, you’re my best friend. I don’t know if you remember, but seventy years ago, you told me that you were with me ‘til the end of the line’. Well, me too. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line. You put two bullets in me and I’m still here, I don’t think a flying bowl of porridge is going to stop me.” Feeling strong in his declaration, Steve smiled proudly at Bucky, who smiled back, before his mouth slowly drew in to a smirk. “Maybe flying porridge won’t stop you pal, but I’m not so sure about when you put that shit on a spoon in your mouth…” 

…

Steve walked down the hallway, lost in thought. He was trying his best, and that’s all anyone could really ask of him, but he was clearly doing something wrong, if Bucky thought that he didn’t want to be here. He kept turning this thought over in his head, again and again, as if the next time he turned it, he would find the solution sitting underneath. He was stuck so far in his head that he almost didn’t notice the crash from in the ceiling cavity. Almost. Steve dove for cover, rolling across the ground and flattening himself against the wall, preparing himself for an alien, or a Hydra scientist, or whatever-the-fuck-else the future had to throw at him. A metal fist punched through the ceiling and it gave way, sending 350 pounds of snipers down to the floor. “What the fuck?” was the first thing out of Steve’s mouth, as he gaped at Clint and Bucky, lying in a heap on the floor, giggling like children. “What the fuck?” he asked again, actually expecting an answer this time. Clint delivered, between fits of giggles. “Tony was telling some government official in the lobby about how the structural integrity of his tower is the best in the world, so we decided to put it to the test,” he gasped out, staring up at Steve from the floor. Getting over the shock of having the ceiling fall on him, Steve started to snicker too. “So, what’s the verdict?” he asked, crouching down to get on Clint and Bucky’s level, the latter of whom was still rolling around laughing. “Well”, Clint said, suddenly adopting a serious demeanour. “It was going all fine and dandy until the air conditioning kicked in and scared the living shit out of me. I made a very manly noise of surprise which scared Buckinator, and he decided that the quickest fix was to punch his way out”. Clint dissolved back in to a fit of giggles, rolling over to bury his face in Bucky’s shoulder. Steve immediately tensed, waiting for Bucky’s reaction to being touched, but he either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, so Steve let himself relax again. It then started to set in that Bucky had punched his way out of the ceiling because he had been startled by Clint screaming like a baby. Punched his way out of the ceiling. One more look at Bucky, still rolling on the ground, and Steve joined them, laughing properly for the first time since coming out of the ice. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw the door at the end of the hallway open, and Natasha step through it. She took one look at Clint, Bucky and Steve almost in tears on the remains of the ceiling and turned straight back around and walked out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr is @theamazingsheilaisnotonfire, come yell at me there

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @theamazingsheilaisnotonfire and tell me what you think!!!


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